Make A Wish
by Loser Girl
Summary: Sam was your average teenager, from a small town, who always yearned for adventure but never got it. That is, until she made a wish.
1. Prologue

~*~*~ A/N: I just got back from Boston. I've been writing this for the past few days, sometimes on the bus. lol. ^.^ Enjoy my latest. *~*~*~  
  
  
Samantha Henderson, frequently called Sam, was your typical, every day, teenage girl. She had short brown hair, brown eyes, and was normal in almost every way - normal looks, normal grades, normal social status. The only truly unique thing about her was her love for Middle-Earth, the world created by J.R.R Tolkien. She read "The Hobbit' when she was a girl, and later became enthralled with "The Lord of the Rings" and "The Silmarillion", along with Tolkien's other tales.   
  
  
Nothing interesting really ever happened to Sam: since she was from a small town in Vermont, she rarely did anything adventurous, like she longed to do. Until, on her 18th birthday, she made a wishe, while blowing out the candles on her birthday cake.  
  
  
Here follows the tale.   
  
  
  
~*~*~* A/N: Short, I know. It's a prologue. You've been prologued. lol. *~*~*~*~ 


	2. Samantha

~*~*~*~ A/N: Please R/R *~*~*~  
  
  
Sam fiddled with the combonation on her locker: 16-30-26. She threw it open quickly, admiring for a moment the collage of pictures taped to the inside of the door. Then, she rummaged about, retrieving a book and placing two on the shelf. Finally, the weekend had come, and tomorrow was her birthday!  
  
  
"Look at her," sneered Brittany, one of the more popular girls at their small highschool. She stood with her friends Rebecca and Cynthia, across the hall from Sam's locker. "She's so obsessed with those stupid books."  
  
"Yea," replied Cynthia with a laugh. "I bet she thinks they're really real."  
  
"She's completely delusional," agreed Rebecca, leaning against a few lockers.  
  
"Let's go bring her back to reality, shall we?" Brittany grinned.  
  
  
Samantha glanced up as Brittany, Rebecca, and Cynthia advanced. Gulping, she glanced away, hoping they would leave her alone. These three girls were the nastiest ones in the school.  
  
"Hey, geek," she heard them call, as they surrounded her.  
  
"H-hello," she replied, glancing from one to the other nervously. Her fears were confirmed as Brittany began leafing through her locker, throwing books, papers, and notebooks to the floor, and Cyntha ripped at her collage of pictures. Rebecca pushed her and Sam fell to the floor.  
  
"See ya' later, geek," called Brittany over her shoulder as the three girls disappeared, giggling, down the hall.  
  
"Yrch," muttered Sam under her breath as she gathered her things, placing them with care back into her locker. Straightening, she studied her collage. As she tried to repair a ripped picture of the Hobbits, one from the new movie, she sighed softly.  
  
"Oh, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Sam," she murmured, shaking her head.   
  
  
She walked home, glancing up toward the mountains. In this fog, she could almost imagine that the Green Mountains of Vermont were the Misty Mountains of Middle-Earth.   
  
"Eru, help me," she sighed, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. "I have to get out of here."  
  
She neared her home, a quaint farm house on the top of a hill. She glanced to the stables - in Vermont a lot of people owned horses - and smiled at her white stallion.  
  
"Good afternoon, Shadowfax," she said, and the horse snorted a reply. Shadowfax was her horse, along with Bill, Arod, and Hasufel.   
  
She rounded the stables, wandering past the pens - her family owned cows, sheep, and pigs. Then, she walked into her house. She could tell no one was home, for no one answereed when she called out. With a shrug, Sam set down her books and wandered into the kitchen. She opened a cupboard, taking some crackers, and removed a soda from the refridgerator. Then, she ventured to the living room, sitting with a sigh on her couch.  
  
"No one understands," she murmured to herself, then glanced down. Her smallest kittin peeked his head out from under his couch.   
  
"Pippin," she grinned, picking up the small feline. "How are you today?" He purred a response, rubbing against her leg.  
  
"Well, Pip, Tomorrow's my birthday."  
  
  
~*~*~* A/N: I just noticed that these chapters are kinda short, even though they took up like 3 peices of hand-written paper. Eh, that's ok. lol. *~*~*~ 


	3. Happy Birthday!

~*~*~ A/N: All right. Chapter 3. Thank you. *~*~*~*~  
  
  
Sam woke up with the sun thenext morning, stretching her arms high over her head. Then, she trotted down the stairs.   
  
"Well, well, it's the birthday girl," grinned her mother, as she was setting a large plate on the table.  
  
"Mmm," said Sam softly, sniffing the plate of eggs and bacon her mother had made. "Thanks mom!"  
  
Her father looked up from his paper. "Well, breakfast is ready, and Sam appears."  
  
"Daaad," replied Sam, sitting down.  
  
"Go put some shoes on," her father insisted, glancing at his daughter's bare feet. "You'll catch a cold."  
  
"I don't wear shoes," replied Sam with a grin, digging into the food.  
  
"Orange juice?" her mother asked, and she nodded, her mouth too full to say anything.   
  
"So, 18," said her dad, thoughtfully. "You can vote."  
  
"And buy lottery tickets," agreed Sam with a smile.  
  
"And get drunk in Canada, but you're not getting anywhere near the border," her mom joked, and Sam giggled.  
  
"Farthest thing from my mind.   
  
  
"Happy Birthday to you!" Sam's friends and family members finished, and Sam looked down upon the cake. Eighteen blazing candles sat, just waiting to be blown out.   
  
"Make a wish," urged her friend Darcy, and Sam squinted, thinking for a moment. Then, she wiggled her bare toes and blew out the candles, and the room went dark.   
  
  
Sam whipped her head form left to right. She didn't have much more time to think, for two small forms ran past her then, and an army followed. She had no choice but to run.  
  
Jumping over a log, she landed in a puddle of mud, feeling it slip between her toes. Grumbling, she continued to race, knowing the consequence if she didn't.  
  
Suddenly, they were surrounded, and the three halted, the two Hobbits looking up at Sam with wonder. How did a girl, dressed in such strange garb, get there?  
  
Just when it appeared that all hope was lost, a figure, brave and true, came storming onto the battlefield.   
  
"Boromir," Sam said under her breath as he fought the Uruk-Hai. Quickly, like a flood of knowledge, everything fell into place.  
  
"Merry, Pippin," she hissed, as Boromir cleared a path. "Follow me." Without question, the Hobbits followed her. She stooped, claiming the sword of a fallen orc.  
  
She grunted as an Uruk-Hai swung at her. Sam threw her sword up, but was quickly overpowered by the much stronger Uruk-Hai.  
  
"Time for an answer to that eternal question," thought Sam, and she threw a sharp kick toward the soldier's groin.  
  
It faltered for a moment, and she pushed with all of her might, then swung.   
  
Her sword embedded itself in the Uruk-Hai's neck. She was not strong enough to behead it completely. The Uruk-Hai raised it's own sword, and Sam winced, thinking that this was the end.  
  
"Stop!" commanded Ugluk, glaring at Sam. "This is certainly a very tall Halfling. Notice her feet!" Sam glanced down at her bare feet, caked in mud and grass. Actually, they did look sort of Hobbit-y.   
  
She was cast over an orc's shoulder, and glancing back, saw that Merry and Pippin were also. Gulping back a tear, she saw Boromir on his knees, waiting for his death.  
  
  
"That is not a halfling," growled an orc, and Ugluk glared down at him.  
  
"I care not of your opinion. If there is the chance she may be a halfling, then my orders are to bring her back alive. And unspoiled."  
  
The orc growled, glaring away.  
  
"That is not a halfling," it repeated under it's breath.  
  
  
"A girl," sputtered Boromir, grasping onto Aragorn as his last breaths passed through him. "A girl was taken, and the little ones!"  
  
"A girl?" repeated Aragorn, a confused expression growing on his face. "Where did she come from?"  
  
But Boromir could not answer.  
  
  
Sam stirred as the orcs cast her down. Already, she knew she was bruised from the beatings, courtesy of the Uruk-Hai. She noticed they treated her no better than Merry or Pippin.  
  
"Merry... Pippin?" she asked, looking over at the two. Pippin was awake, barely, but Merry was still unconscious.  
  
"Pippin!" Sam hissed, and he looked up, wincing.   
  
"Who are you?" he whispered.  
  
"Samantha," she responded, an orc throwing her a glare.  
  
"Quiet, halfling," it growled. Pippin raised his eyebrows. Maybe it was the numerous hits to the head he had suffered, but this girl certainly did not seem to be a Hobbit.  
  
"You're not a Hobbit," he whispered softly, and Sam shrugged sheepishly.  
  
"They don't know that, and right now, that's the only thing keeping me alive."  
  
  
Sam's parents and friends blinked in surprise as her father, Paul, flicked on the light, and she was no longer in front of them.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
  
Sam's mind reeled. How was this even possible? Middle-Earth was fictional, created by Tolkien. It wasn't real. However, here, now, it seemed pretty damn real to her.   
  
  
  
~*~*~* A/N: ^.^ Please review. *~*~* 


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